


Rush

by twoofdiamonds



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Drabble, F/M, First Time, Grown up Bev and Ben
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-19 00:01:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13692594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoofdiamonds/pseuds/twoofdiamonds
Summary: Get me out of here, she seems to say with her eyes





	Rush

Ben doesn’t find it until he’s back in his hotel room, loosening his tie one-handed and fishing in his jacket pocket for his phone with the other. The postcard is cold and a little damp, ‘Big Shrimpin’ Derry’ on the front in ye olde capitalised letters, around a black and white photo of a fishing boat. On the back, Beverley has written a short verse. There’s no mistaking her handwriting, although Ben hasn’t seen it in two decades and change. It’s a little different, more grown up, but he learnt the shape of it once by heart, learnt the shape of _her_ , and will never forget. The card reads:

 

_Foxtrot mike lima_

_Foxtrot in the dark_

_Dance me to the end of love_

_Or screw me in the park?_

 

There’s a cell phone number below. Ben stares at it. He forgets his tie and sits heavily on the bed. _Screw me in the park?_ It’s so crude, even for Bev. He wishes she wouldn’t cheapen herself: Beverley Marsh is, and has only ever been, precious beyond measure to Ben, the only star of his heart, and his heart hurts for her now, even as his body stirs. It is a self-depreciating taunt, yes, but it’s also a clear invitation. Ben’s skin prickles in anticipation as he dials her number.

 

****

 

“Come down,” she’d said on the phone, “The night is young,” and he’d heard the smile in her voice, marvelled at the easy confidence, “Come down and have a drink with me, Hanscom.” Her voice had changed too: girl to woman, sultry and husky and it had done things to him. And still, he wishes she wouldn’t smoke.

 

She’s smiling with the bar tender, making idle chit chat. He does some goofy kind of wave and she smiles, a little nervous. Her eyes welcome him as he makes his way to her but there’s a silent plea there too. It’s the same wildness that’s always been there, that draws him in. _Get me out of here_ , she seems to say with her eyes, _out of this bar, right out of this town and save me from my motherfucking life._ And Ben knows then that he’ll do it. If they survive this fucked up childhood reunion, if she lets him, if she still wants him, he’ll do it all.

 

****

 

She’s smaller than him now, small and sweet. He’s kissed so many women but none like this, never with his heart trying to pound right out of his chest and tears trembling behind his eyes. “Bev,” he keeps saying, whenever they part, “Bev, Beverley, Bev,” like a broken record, but she just holds him tighter and presses back in.

 

Her small breasts are firm against him, while her hips and pelvis press cleverly against him, angled to make him moan, the friction delicious. Ben doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to let her go now. They’ll have to drag him away, or use metal cutters or something.

 

She guides his hand under her dress and he wants to tell her to stop, to make her take it slow. He hates that she was right about the park, about them doing this against a tree under the cover of night, but he doesn’t stop her. He leaves his hand there, trembling, when she takes hers away. She’s wet through her panties, and so wet when he pulls them aside that his brain shorts out for a beat.

 

She works her small hand between them instead and curls her fingers around the hard shape of him through his suit pants. “You still want me Ben?” she murmurs, as though it’s really a question, as two of his fingers slide into her making her gasp. “After all these years? January embers. I never forgot.” And it’s a lie, of course it’s a lie because they all forgot, they forgot everything. And yet it isn’t. He feels her clench around his fingers and the smell of her hair, where he buries his face as he comes, is so much like coming home that Ben does cry then, a little.

 

****

 

The red balloon between them and the door, ribbon trailing gently in a non-existent breeze, is stark and sickening in its existence. They cling to each other like children, nothing else they could do and nobody else in the parking lot to save them.  When it bursts Beverley shrieks, but there’s no appearance from Pennywise and they hurry inside.

 

“Stay in my room?” she says, as they climb the stairs. She looks scared, older close up, and a little rough around the edges like her voice. Ben pulls her close, arm around her shoulders. Her arm loops his waist like it’s lived there always. The idea of going back to separate rooms hadn’t even occurred to Ben.

 

“We’re really going to do this aren’t we?” he asks, because it hadn’t seemed real until now. It’s crazy, he feels jumpy-high like a kid cliff-diving on a sugar rush, and simultaneously scared out of his wits.

 

Bev just smiles tiredly. “Yes,” she says, squeezing back. “Both things.”


End file.
